I saw the illustrious Dr. Laura spraying her wisdom on the airwaves this week. On the Today show, she said that Eliot Spitzer’s wife was partly responsible for his trust busting, saying that when a wife doesn’t make her husband “feel like a man, make him feel like a success, make him feel like her hero,” he’s going to do things like form a presidential exploratory committee and probe the youth vote.
It’s pretty difficult to top the stupidity of paying for sex when you’re the governor of the second-largest state in America, but God bless Dr. Laura for again making the improbably stupid look like routine idiocy. That’s the sign of the great ones. To put her comments in a musical context for today, I suspect Dr. Laura would blame:
- Yoko Ono’s voice for not being shrill enough to disintegrate Mark David Chapman’s bullets with one atonal shriek
- Jimi Hendrix’s esophagus for not being wide enough to expel the vomit he choked to death on.
- The shirts of Right Said Fred for not being strong enough to resist the high levels of sexiness and stay on their men.
1) “Take It Back,” Cream. I’m guessing Spitzer wishes he could take it back, take that thing right out of here now.
2) “Moondance,” Van Morrison. Would a Moondance with Van Morrison cost $5500? And would it have a happy ending?
3) “Soft Revolution,” Stars. This one doesn’t relate so much, but one could say there was nothing soft about Eliot Spitzer’s revolution. He may be the best example of the harder they come, the harder they fall. Commercial note: Stars Set Yourself on Fire is an incredible album.
4) “All Apologies,” Nirvana. How exactly does one apologize to one’s wife for this? Confessing an affair is bad enough, but saying you blew 80 grand on hookers? Is there a Hallmark card for that? The bad news is I’ve been paying for sex / the good news is the STD test came back negative. And am I the only one who wished that, after the governor finished his apology with his wife at his side, she had kneed him in the spitzers?
BTW, this clip from The Daily Show just killed me this week. The “as a friend” line had me in tears.
5) “Breaking Us in Two,” Joe Jackson. This is the music when you go to the bar to drown your sorrows, where Joe Jackson would be sitting next to you and singing like Jonathan Richman in There’s Something About Mary.
6) “A World of Hurt,” Drive-By Truckers. This is the music you listen to when you’re sitting in your empty governor’s mansion, finishing that bitter fifth of Jack, getting ready to move into your bachelor pad with Dick Morris and praying he can get you a guest commenting spot on Fox News.
7) “If I Ever Lose My Faith in You,” Sting. I will never lose my faith that the comeuppance of santimonious bleaters is great for comedy. Colbert and The Daily Show have been on fire with this all week. It's like post-writer's strike manna from heaven.
8) “There. There. (The Boney King of Nowhere.),” Radiohead. I think “The Boner King of Nowhere” should be Spitzer’s new title. I like that as much as Jon Stewart calling him the Mayor of Schmucktown.
9) “The Last Time,” The Rolling Stones. I imagine this is the last time for the Spitzers. That’s going to be an ugly, lopsided divorce proceeding. It will be the legal equivalent of the United States invading Grenada.
10) “Fat Bottomed Girls,” Queen. Which is the greater irony: a political crusader getting hung on the anti-prostitution laws he helped write, or the most flamboyantly gay man in classic rock history singing about having sex with ample women? This really cries out for a Spitzer montage. It’s also one of those songs that makes me happy to work at home -- I can go to 11 without fear of HR reprisals. Warning: shirtless Freddie Mercury alert in the video.
11) “Love Song,” Tesla. I’ll go out on a hopeful note. Love will probably find a way. It usually does. Of course, given that campaign funds may have been used to purchase sex, that love may be found inside prison walls. But if you like it dirty, prison’s the place to be. See, these things always work out. Warning: excessive bang alert in the video.
Have a good weekend, and as Tom Hanks said in A League of Their Own, avoid the clap. That’s good advice.